


Songs to the Tune of the TARDIS

by misscam



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-13
Updated: 2007-05-13
Packaged: 2017-10-17 13:12:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/177189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misscam/pseuds/misscam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i> <i>Second verse, same as the first. Time's never predictable, but he is.</i></i> [Ten/Rose, Ten/Martha, implied Three/Jo, vaguely Four/Sarah Jane, Five/Tegan, Doctor/Romana, Ace, Susan]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Songs to the Tune of the TARDIS

**Author's Note:**

> Some vague old school references. Much thanks to littlezink for beta.

Songs to the Tune of the TARDIS  
by misscam

Disclaimer: BBC's characters. My words.

Additional credit: Two lines of lyrics each from The Beatles' "All You Need is Love", Ella Fiztgerald's "The Song is Gone", Madonna's "Rain", Wayne's "Shooting at the Stars", Sting's "If you Love Somebody, Set Them Free", The Cardigans' "Deuce", Kings of Convenience's "Parallell Lines", Joni Mitchell's "Both Sides Now" and Alkaline Trio's "Jaked on Green Beers".

II

" _Nothing you can do but you can learn how to be in time; it's easy_ ," Susan sings, not understanding the words and not quite understanding how to be human and not quite wanting to be a Time Lady, but trying, always trying.

Like him, the Doctor knows, in many ways. But young, not like him. So much to learn, and he's still not sure why he first took her to Earth to teach it. Not sure he's teaching her anything at all, but life and time will and he can at least be there.

His grandchild. He still feels closer to her than to his child, but he hasn't forgotten, not one thing.

Ian and Barbara seem to have forgotten not to be restrained, smiling at each other as Susan does a da capo. Touching a little, which sometimes seems even more telling than touching a lot.

He wonders a little what touching nothing means, and closes his eyes to the hum of the TARDIS, the not-quite-pitched-right tones of Susan, the laughter of Barbara and the slow inhale of breath from Ian.

They could almost be Susan's parents. Almost. Maybe he's kept them here for her. Maybe he's kept them here for him. Maybe he's old and thinks too much.

"Maybe I shouldn't take you to another Beatles concert, my girl," he tells Susan, because he is Stern Grandfather, and she knows it's just a role, knows what he doesn't say and why he doesn't touch.

She knows. She has to.

The day after they go to London, 2164 and nothing is easy at all.

II

" _You and the song are gone; but the melody lingers on_ ," Ella Fiztgerald sings, and everywhere people are dancing, the very human concept of celebration. Drink, eat and be merry, for tomorrow they will die. Not perhaps the tomorrow the day after, but time never runs out of tomorrows to give.

The Doctor isn't dancing, but watching Jo and Cliff do so instead. They fit; steps in sync, colours matching, smiles identical.

A human for a human. It is fitting. And still. Still. So much still.

Jo catches his eye for a moment, and her smile falters a little. Maybe there's even guilt there, and maybe he wants her to feel a little of it, for all he wishes her well.

Still.

She knows. She's still leaving him.

The song has long ended when he slips out, but her words linger in his mind and take up residence.

II

" _You promised me when you said goodbye; that you'd return when the storm was done_ ," a TV commercial fills the air, apparently trying to sell shampoo. Sarah Jane is staring at it, and he can tell 1993 advertising is going to get a lashing from her later.

He's already looking forward to it.

Sarah Jane. Sometimes he wonders if he's moulded her to fit him, or if she formed him to something she wouldn't bore of. Either is dangerous, and he fancies danger all too much.

She looks at him sometimes as if she'd like to see him in nothing but a scarf, and he thinks about seeing her in nothing but attitude.

K-9 should probably not have to see either.

"Women do not bend like that," Sarah Jane says, still looking at the TV, and he tilts his head.

"That's because she's a Pegana. Unfortunately, they have very bad breath," he replies.

It's time for another adventure, Sarah Jane seems to know, already smiling at him and he lets himself smile right back. She knows.

He knows one of these days he's going to treat her very badly for that very reason.

II

" _We're not quite sold on your fascination for holding on; and all the lessons that you want to teach life's already done_ ," the Doctor sings, and Tegan gives him a Look. It's a look that can mean many things, but in this case probably means Shut-It-Already. He gets that one a lot.

He still never shuts it. It's part of the dance, or maybe it's a fencing match, this one, parrs and thrusts and the occasional wounding.

That's life too. Blood and fights and make-up-shags against a TARDIS wall, so hurried he's always breathless and confused after.

Tegan talks a lot, but she never quite speaks, barbed wire constructed around her mind and he wonders what's made her build it. He doesn't think it's him, but he can't be sure. It could be.

She doesn't speak and he doesn't, but they both know and both shag as if they could run out of time any minute.

In the end, she doesn't hold out to see when they will.

II

 _"You can't control an independent heart; can't tear the one you love apart_ ," Ace sings. It's 1985 and Sting is everywhere, though the Doctor was rather hoping that wouldn't include Ace's vocal cords.

Ace. Bright, not-that-great-singer Ace, who has thrown off her given name and given past both, and he envies. He still hasn't mastered that, but all else he has mastered he tries to teach.

Ace, who isn't Susan, but can still be a daughter and a legacy.

He hasn't told her about his rather mad plan. If a Time Lord can be a little human, a human should be able to be a little Time Lord (or Lady) too. It's only logic, and he can pretend it has nothing to do with the delightful picture of Ace driving his teachers as mad as he once did them.

Nothing at all. It's just a bonus.

Ace smiles at him as if she knows what he's thinking, and perhaps she does, perhaps he doesn't have to tell her anything and she can still be everything he's imagining.

A year later, he discovers sooner or later, even legacies go independent.

II

" _I am afraid of you now; now that you left me_ ," the Doctor hums, but Romana can't hear him. There's nothing left of her to hear, burned out of time and life and the sky, and all he has is the faintest linger of her smell on his hand.

He thinks he's going a little mad. His hair is burning, and the smell is slowly killing everything else, and he's cradling himself as the TARDIS spins through time, somehow trying to save him after he's killed everything.

He doesn't care. He should die. Should die when he's killed someone he kissed just hours earlier and babbled a lot of nonsense at and got a lot of nonsense back.

Maybe they both knew there was an end coming. Babble is safe, words weigh. He's already carrying so much.

 _Oh Gallifrey, Gallifrey what have I done to you?_

 _Killed_ , Romana says in his head and he screams, because it isn't just his hair burning now and her smell is gone and she is gone and everything they never said is screaming in his head.

He knew. She had to know too.

The second after, the TARDIS crashes to his death - and most terrifying of all, a life after.

II

" _In my imagination you are cast in gold; your image a compensation for me to hold_ ," Jackie is singing on the phone, but Rose isn't really listening and the Doctor is trying very hard not to, on account of having Rose's tongue in his mouth and not wanting to imagine Jackie's tongue at all.

It's becoming an unfortunate habit this, snogging Rose whenever she talks about going home for a visit. It's almost as if he doesn't want her to, and he is sure Jackie hates him less this body, really. There shouldn't be any reason to keep her from going back. No reason at all, except for a strange tickle in his mind.

"Rose love? You there?" Jackie asks a little drunkenly, and he moves his mouth to Rose's neck instead to allow her a reply.

"Yeah mum," Rose mutters breathlessly.

"I hardly see you. He's not chaining you up in that box of his?" Jackie asks, and the Doctor has to push a few very interesting images out of his head.

"No, mum. He's great... oh... yeah, great," Rose whimpers a little .

"Just hearing your voice and knowing you're alive out there isn't much comfort, you know," Jackie rambles on.

"Yes, I know," Rose replies, meeting his gaze as he looks up at her, her lip still slightly swollen from his touch and he knows she does. "Oh, I know."

The day after they go back to visit Rose's mum after all, and everything goes to hell and alternate universes with no compensation at all.

II

" _And if you care, don't let them know; don't give yourself away_ ," the jukebox voices, and Martha mouths along to it a little drunkenly. She's dancing too, or at least moving her body, jeans clinging to her legs and something satin clinging to her breasts and stomach.

He's half wishing it's his skin clinging to it instead. He can see himself, fingers on her nipples, tongue in her navel, breath across her skin. He can see it and almost feel it, fingers itching to touch.

Rebound, he's tried to tell himself sternly, but they all are. And yet not.

Martha's not Rose. Ace wasn't Susan. Sarah Jane didn't replace Jo. Rose didn't fill the gap of Gallifrey. They were what they were, and he can never get away from what he is.

"Come here, Mr Smith," Martha says, wagging a finger at him. She knows he wants to, for all he says he doesn't. Oh, she knows, it's he that suddenly wonders if he doesn't.

He could go to her. They might end up shagging. They might not, if Daleks suddenly burst in the door. Time's never predictable.

"Come here," Martha says again, and he walks over, watching her shining eyes all the while.

Second verse, same as the first.

Time's never predictable, but he is.

II

" _It's been a while since I've really spent time with you; wish I could take back the times that I had_ ," hums Rose, her head on Martha's shoulder, and they dance, slowly to the TARDIS tune until Martha stops and laughs.

"For a Time Lord he sure lets time rule him," she says, and Rose nods in agreement. "Can't change this, can't change that, can't keep time from killing us."

"Did you die?" Rose asks, sounding fascinated. "I had immortality. It burns."

"I will die," Martha says, and laughs again, delighted. "Oh, I will."

"But we live in here," Rose says, tapping her head before taking Martha's hand and leading her into a tango. "Do you know why?"

"Why?"

"Do you know the phrase 'if you love them, set them free'?"

"Yeah."

"He never admitted to loving us. We're still caught."

"No, honey," Romana says, taking both Rose and Martha's hands, a tango for three now, " _he's_ not free."

It's never silent in the Doctor's mind, and getting ever more crowded.

FIN


End file.
